Hi there.  I’m Lisa and I like to try new things, so I thought I’d start a blog about it.  I talk to myself quite often and Self seems to always have something to say right back to me.  You will get to know her as time goes on.  I think she’ll crack you up, like she does me.

I am 46 years old, married with four daughters, two bonus (step) daughters and a bonus son.  More about all of those kids later.  My hubby, Hubby, is a computer-something-er-other at a nationwide company.  More on him later too.

For now, it’s just you, me, and Self.  She tends to invite herself to just about everything. She can kind of be annoying at times because she insists on being correct every time.

Okay, enough introductions.  On to the fun.

Yesterday I was mmob (minding my own business) when the doorbell rang.  I thought, before I got up from the chair-“Do I really want to know who did that, or do I want to let them use their key?”  I was guessing it was a child who forgot how to use a key or had somehow misplaced it, only to find it as I opened the door.  After a few moments and hearing no moans, groans or further knocking, I gave in, all the while Self was telling me-“NO!  Don’t do it!!!”  Okay, I’ll get it.  [Side note, we replaced our front storm door this fall and have NOT replaced the “No Soliciting” sign as of yet.  Oh, it’s been purchased, a few times, just never stuck on the actual door.  More on that later too.].  I drag myself away from my computer, to the door and open it to see a man with a crooked smile and glasses sliding halfway down his nose.  I greet him through the aforementioned new storm door.  I tell myself that “it’s cold” and “I am NOT being rude by not greeting him by opening the storm door.”  Self also mentions that I would not be in this position with a stranger at my door and nothing between us but glass if I had listened to her in the first place.  “Be quiet, Self!  I’m curious.”  Self was becoming more and more unhappy with me by the minute.

The gentleman at the door showed me a laminated, dog-eared card which clearly said to me, “Shut the door!  It’s a trick!  He’s a door-to-door salesman and it has to do with vacuum cleaners!  Retreat!  Retreat!”  I was a sucker, though.  I was pretty sure he represented Kirby vacuums and I have always coveted Kirbys, after all, they are the very best vacuums anywhere.  [Personal opinion here.  Expect to see them all over my writings.  Take them or leave them, it’s up to you.]  As you might imagine, I hear nothing he says.  It’s all swirling in my head, “Kirby!  I’ve always wanted one!  They are here, actually at my door! I have no money.  Hubby will be correct when he tells me, ‘Not right now.’ But, it’s like the Holy Grail of vacuums!  I.  MUST.  HAVE.  ONE.”  Well, the selfish little Lisa [sll] takes over my muted self and says, “Oh, just this once.” and let him in.

Hubby knew at once how dangerous a situation we had just entered.  His shields went up and he gave me the “You WILL tell him ‘NO’ and we are NOT buying a several thousand dollar vacuum cleaner today,” look.  I simply nodded, my head still swimming with rainbows, unicorns and visions of a dust free home.

Dave made the appointment with a young man named Andrew, not Andy, Drew or Rew, just Andrew.  When Andrew arrived, the two of them began unpacking a brand-new Kirby!  A BRAND-NEW KIRBY IN MY OWN HOME!  I was awestruck.  It was so shiny, so sparkly, so fresh and new, right out of the box!  And it was IN MY HOME!!  I had the opportunity of a lifetime and that DREAM of a Dream [farmboy, fetch me that pitcher] come true!  My fingers and toes were tingling and my tummy had rabbits in it.  I was so excited.  All the while, Self was pounding within the confines of, well, who really knows what keeps a Self contained, and yelling at me, “NO!  NO!  You CANNOT HAVE ONE!  It’s not time yet!  You have a kitchen remodel coming in less than six weeks!  Every last penny of your money is all in that remodel.  You MUST think logically and think of the others in the family who work so hard to pay all of the bills and keep you warm, dry and fed.” (very fed, if you know me at all!)

I was oblivious to her ranting and raving.  All I knew was “Kir-by, kir-by, Ki-rby…”  After the beautiful object of my desire was fully freed from the confines of that awful cardboard box, she really shone.  I heard angels singing in her honor.  I saw flashes of bright light as the vacuum angels swooped by to pay homage to the vacuum of all vacuums.  I had to remind myself to breathe.  After assembly, Dave excused himself and Andrew took the reins; he easily had me by the tip of my nose with that carat of a carrot. Andrew began his spiel while I ran over all of the finances in my mind, trying desperately to squeeze more pennies out of somewhere to quench my desire.  All I knew at that moment was that I HAD to HAVE that Kirby.

Yes, we went through the demonstration part.  The first and last time I had been in the almost holy presence of a Kirby in my home, I believe I was a very young adult with small children and a student for a husband.  I bet you can imagine that the demo and subsequent sales pitch was a bust even before the demonstration started.  Students with a wife and small children don’t usually have anything to make even a down payment on such a miraculous piece of working art.  It was enough to whet my whistle and capture my attention though.

Back to Andrew and the object of my passionate desire: the Kirby.  Andrew showed and demonstrated a number of tools with the Kirby.  Let’s see, the flat or solid surface floor attachment, the (Egyptian ha ha, private joke) horsehair brush, the pet groomer [side note, Libby, my King Charles Cavalier Spaniel, 12 years old, LOVED to be groomed with that thing!  She wanted more each time we stopped!  It was funny and pretty gross too, when we saw what was pulled out of her coat by the strong suction of the Kirby.  Cocoa Bean, our Australian Shepherd mix, also 12 years old was a bit nervous.  She allowed us to demonstrate, but all in all, Libby is the one who really enjoyed the pet groomer attachment.] with each featured attachment, my passion for the Kirby rose to an almost uncontainable level. What more could he possibly show me to actually increase my love, desire and devotion to the Kirby?  The passionate desire for this work of art was almost palpable.  The hose is basically indestructible, as evidence of us twisting it and letting it go back to its normal state, the extension tubes are strong enough to be used as light sabers, swords, or weapons of mass destruction when not being used by the Kirby, and I had not even begun to see the shampooer or the other shiny components in the box of tricks which come with the coveted Kirby.  Andrew and I had a glorious time with that beauty.

As for my allergies, I was in dire need of an antihistimine just a few minutes into the demo.  I do not know if just seeing the dust and grime being pulled up from our carpets, rugs, animals, and HVAC vents was enough to set my allergies into orbit, or if it was being in the presence of the dust and grime.  By the time I walked Andrew and Dave out the front door, my nose was itching, running, and actually hurting, while I sneezed every few minutes and used a lot of facial tissue with lotion.  Today, while I am vacuuming my heart out, I am not suffering a bit.  Also my Kirby is much easier on and less painful to my ears to use than my former vacuum.  My former vacuum emitted a high pitch squeal when powered on.  I wore earplugs and did my best to get through the cleaning job with the former vacuum.  Kirby is not silent [like the lambs] but, the sound emitted is lower in pitch and much more comfortable to my own ears.

Eventually Andrew posed me the wrap-up question, “Do you hate me, or the vacuum? What’s the issue between you and your purchase?”  I thought it was a funny question.  After all, Andrew was a nice chap, smiled and joked while showing the fine features and capabilities of my dream cleaning machine, the Kirby.  He really had me laughing when he started to tell me that I reminded him of Ellen, the actor who portrayed the voice of that blue fish in that one movie from a ways back.  It’s not like I had not heard that before.  I told him the story of the single day when three individuals each independently mentioned to me that they thought I was “just like Dory from Finding Nemo.”  I was working in a bank and the money delivery guy, the UPS guy and a new customer each told me that I remind them of the “blue fish.”  I joked with him from the start and was direct, I didn’t want to waste his time so I sat him down and we talked numbers.  I filled him in on the remodel and the directions of all of our monies to that end.  Andrew offered us many discounts and suggested a payment plan, if our credit allowed it.  He also told us about the trade-in discount and asked about other qualifications for discounts.  Me, being who I am, I offered all of the vacuum cleaners here in the house as trade-in, along with a bread maker or two.  The higher-ups actually declined the bread maker later on and instead decided to allow me to make them four loaves of bread, including cinnamon-raisin.  [I will get right to that after the weekend.]

Hubby and I simply rejected the offers. Eventually Andrew asked our permission to call one of his superiors and see what the bottom dollar, best-ever cash on the spot or financing might be for us.  Andrew turned on his speaker phone and we all had a nice chat.  I asked, quite directly I must say, what the cash price right here and right now would be, after all of the discounts.  Finally, a price we could all agree on!

I paid for the Kirby in full that very minute.  My bliss!  Andrew taught me some of the basics about my new purchase aka Kirby School and I drank it all in; the amazement, the dream of all vacuum dreams come true, the joy, the new found devotion between my Kirby and me, the new vacuum cleaner smell and the smell of victory.  It was overwhelming and I was full of peace and contentment with my purchase.

Now I am using my Kirby to work on one room at a time to get as much dirt and nasties out of the carpet as possible.  Andrew advised me to change the bag when it reaches six, or was it eight pounds full of stuff.  He was sure that it would take at least 8-12 months to do so.  I suggested that it wouldn’t take that long to do so, he didn’t believe me, so, I am vacuuming my little heart out until I can prove it to him.  If you think about it, that’s kind of gross– proving to the salesman that your house [carpet, rug actually] is dirtier than he imagines.  Oh well, I can live with that, just so long as I get to keep my Kirby and clean with her always.


The End

or, is it?



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